


Between the Lines

by dapatty



Category: Castle, White Collar
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Mild Language, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal thought that if he pretended hard enough to hold it together after Kate died, everyone including him would believe it. Too bad, he didn’t take into account that everyone including a novelist could see that he’s anything but okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Lines

“So we’re going to check out that murder, right?” Neal Caffery asked, lifted eyebrow and amusement tucked into the corner of his mouth.

To any casual observer Neal would appear to be on the top of this game. All barely confined charm, flirtation, and wit on the front and center not to mention looking like he could hang with Sinatra--slicked back dark hair, intelligent blue eyes, the whole nine tucked inside vintage clothes. Peter Burke could see the wavy edges of his friend’s resolve. Something shaky just out of his peripheral in that Peter could see of Neal’s cockiness.

Neal was anything but fine as far as Peter could tell, but he was covering it well, murder investigation notwithstanding. Neal had lost the love of his life in an explosion that Burke was still having trouble getting any lead on. Peter was a little reluctant to take Neal on this possible new case even if it were strictly consultant oriented.

“Now how did you hear about that?” Burke asked. He was frowning, never mind that was almost his default setting around Caffrey. Either Neal had some inside information in this or it had already hit the news. Damn internet. Damn news. Damn job inevitably making him late to dinner with his amazing wife.

“A cast of Rodin’s David disappears from the Met only to be found at a murder scene with ‘other priceless artifacts’ of course I heard about it,” Neal said grabbing his hat.

Peter frowned even more. Sounded like the con phone tree had been activated for gossip.

“So I caught it on the news,” Neal smiled sweetly and lying through his teeth. Mozzie must have called him. Twitchy helpful sidekick. “Let me guess the NYPD is especially capable of handling the murder, but ‘other priceless artifacts’ might help give them a lead. Besides, you just want to see if you can add to the mental Rolodex of crimes I may or may not have been an accomplice to.”

“Or that,” Burke agreed with a grim smile, grabbing his own jacket.

“Relax, Peter,” Neal said heading for the door. “Or your face might stick that way.”

“Did you learn that from June?” Peter asked following him out.

“No. El,” Neal answered.

Peter smiled privately at that then got back to frowning. He was still worried after all, never mind what Neal may or may not have learned from Burke’s wife.

****

“Look! Feds!” a man in a very nice wool coat, wild blue scarf that brought out the excitement in his eyes, and floppy hair, exclaimed. “Beckett, the Feds are here!” the man bobbed with puppy exuberance and attention directed to the woman in charge of the investigation. Peter was pretty sure he looked familiar.

“Castle, control yourself,” the woman chided, attractive and possibly younger than his wife, barely glancing at the apparent Castle. It looked like a reaction that was old hat. Peter got that.

“Do we really look that much like Feds?” Peter asked. He was frowning still, trying to decide if he was bothered that he was obvious or not.

“Well, you do,” Neal confirmed. Burke couldn’t really argue that. He’s been accused by Neal of looking like a Fed before.

“Why does his name sound familiar?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“ _Castle_ , Richard,” Neal supplied. “You know the author, right? Peter tell me you don’t work so hard that-- you’ve got no idea, do you?” Neal was almost smiling at him in that fond way that he thought Peter was being a bit of an idiot.

“Look, some of us were busy doing our jobs and didn’t have any spare reading time,” Burke defended, not quite mock affronted.

“Low blow,” Neal said, but he was smiling. Burke felt like he was making a little bit of progress.

“Hi, I’m Agent Peter Burke,” Peter extending his hand to the woman, “and this is my consultant Neal Caffrey.”

“Detective Kate Beckett,” she introduced, “and the lug over there is Richard Castle.” She had a good handshake and a nice smile. He could see why Castle liked her. She liked him a little too, it was there in the corner of her mouth and the tilt of her chin and the way she rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm.

“Hey!” the lug, Castle, said, mock offended. “See, I told you he was a Fed!”

Peter frowned. Maybe he was really that obvious. “Well, in the spirit of being a miserable old Fed, what have you got?”

“With the understanding that you are not taking over my murder investigation in any way, shape or form?” Beckett asked.

“Your chief called in a favor, strictly in a consulting capacity,” Peter nodded noticing Neal about to pick up some sort of priceless artifact that Peter thought might have been an actual Ming Dynasty piece if his knowledge of ancient artifacts could be trusted.

“This is a fake,” Neal said as picked it up before Peter could even start to stop him. “The man had a real Rodin cast and a false jade.” Neal turned the piece over in his hand. “Just like I’d expect. Miserable French bastard,” Neal said quietly, fond.

“Hey, gloves. Murder scene. Pretend to professional for five minutes!” Burke exclaimed making grabby hands for the statue.

“Honestly? You’re one to talk,” Neal held the statue out of reach. “First of all, this had nothing to do with the murder. Second, the actual murder scene is in the bedroom where are the handy forensics people are, who, thirdly, already dusted this worthless paperweight.” Neal brandished a hand with finger print dust on it.

“Still,” Peter said at last plucking the faux jade from Neal’s grasp, “reckless rookie move on your part Caffrey.”

“Wait. Caffrey?” Castle asked, all sorts of implications in his tone. “You’re that thief!”

“Alleged,” Neal politely corrected, but that smug twinkle flashed in his eye. “I was only convicted on bond forgeries.”

 _Alleged my ass_ , thought Peter, while outwardly rolling his eyes.

“Well yeah,” Castle grinned, dismissing the comment with elaborate hand movements. “Does any of your ‘alleged’ skills involve the playing of poker?”

“Castle, flirt with consultants from the government later,” Beckett ordered not taking her eyes off of remnants of a package at the stiffs feet.

“No,” Castle objected, managing to sound all of a petulant five year old then turning his attention back to Neal.

Peter managed not to giggle at the author even though he really wanted to as he stepped around the flirting to eye the body. He’s supposed to be a hardened Fed, for Christ’s sake.

It looked like some sort of box the poor guy was holding caught fire only to smother itself out when the guy dropped the box after he was shot.

“Murder investigation not as interesting as an ex-con?” Beckett sounded impatient as Castle waved her off to flutter hopeful eyes at Neal.

“All my writer friends would love a chance to grill-er-I mean speak to you about your previously more colorful lifestyle,” Castle said.

“The guy was shot, right?” Peter asked, shifting his attention between the dead and the shipping box charred around the edges.

“Yeah, straight through the heart,” Beckett confirmed and gave him a warning look.

“It’s just a question, not interference into your investigation,” Peter allowed. “Look under the box yet?”

In response, Beckett reached out her gloved hands and lifted the box from the floor.

“I’d be honored to play a few rounds with such accomplished company,” Neal responded sweetly.

“Excellent! Tonight, then?” Castle asked and Neal nodded. “Bet some sort of antique gun misfired and took out your now deceased ex-friend,” Castle said.

“Bet it was a Dance made Revolver, Boot Revolver, .44 caliber to be exact,” Neal nodded, smiling at Peter about the time the box revealed just that.

Peter started to ask how and instead said, “don’t get cocky or touch anything else.”

Beckett was frowning at the elegant in it’s simplicity, though slightly burned, firearm. “Let me guess, Castle you researched this once for one of your books?”

“Yep, the fourth Derek Storm novel,” the author confirmed.

“And you based your guess on what was stolen from the civil war museum two months ago?” Peter asked, eyeing Neal to confirm.

“The real mystery is why would he be careless enough to ship it loaded with too much powder, unless he was trying to get caught or play Russian roulette with the Postal Service,” Neal shrugged.

“Typical,” Peter said handing Neal a set of plastic gloves. Whether he meant Neal being a know-it-all or the now dead thief being so foolish, it was hard to tell. “Well look around and see if anything catches your eye and do not ‘liberate’ it from the scene.”

“Sure,” Neal said, giving Peter a grin. “And the air quotes weren’t really necessary.”

“Get to work,” Peter barked looking around for anything to catch his notice. Burke had been so focused on a couple rare paintings that he almost missed Neal bolting for the door.

 

*****

Neal stepped outside the building just to breathe. It had all felt too claustrophobic inside all at once, when he ran across a music box inside the apartment. Never mind it looked nothing like the music box that had caused him so much grief.

Even with the towering high rises, even with the press of cloud, he could at least feel like everything wasn’t pressing in. Even with everyone bustling by him, bumping his arms and shoulders, he didn’t feel them.

Nothing was every going to make this any easier. He’d been hoping he’d find something to make it bearable, but there’s nothing.

There wasn’t even a body. There wasn’t even ash. Not that anyone could tell was hers. Not enough to fill an urn or anything like that. Not enough for closure really.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend she wasn’t dead, just gone. Taken a trip on a plane. Just simply removed from his life still, not carved out with flame.

He looked to the sliver of sky visible and fought his thoughts from going back to that day. Maybe if he had never went looking for answers. Maybe if he had just believed her when she said it was over and left it well enough alone. He would have a whole cavern of treasure if it could be measured in ‘maybe’ and ‘what if.’

“Hey,” Peter said stepping up beside him, close enough to bump shoulders. “Little cold to be going out without your coat,” he observed.

“It’s just April,” Neal argued and fought the urge to shiver.

Peter reached Neal his coat and waited while Caffrey slid it back on before handing over his hat without word or judgment. Neal was pretty sure Peter had an opinion, but he was biting his tongue. Burke had been doing that a lot lately, which Neal was grateful for and infuriated at.

Kate took everything. At least he thought so. He was pretty sure she got away with the more important bits. The parts that mattered. Most days, he was sure that she could keep them. But these days, he wished he had a little more of himself to share even if it were something he could never have.

Oh, his outside was still there. Hat cocked all defiantly and all that, hell-bent on bringing Kate’s killers to justice because he needed to-- so he could say that he had. It’s all a con, his appearance and strut. Suit and tie just another way of hiding.

Peter sees right through him, of course, but still played along because he knew, without Neal telling him, how important it is that he played along, at least for a little while longer.

“So, let’s go back inside,” Neal said, turning to go back in.

“I was sure you weren’t done flirting,” Burke agreed, solemn nod and the glimmer of a smile in fighting to show itself from the corner of his mouth.

“Seriously,” Neal said, “I don’t think I’d have room on his dance card with the way he’s all moony eyes at her.”

“I was just about to say,” Burke smiled a little. “Not that they’d even notice it about each other.”

“If they’re even that self aware or have even considered the possibility,” Neal agreed, hoping nothing on his face gave him away. Neal could admit to himself just a little, that if he weren’t so busy grieving, he’d pine a little for his co-worker too. Well, more than he already did.

Burke chuckled under his breath and opened the door for Neal. Then again, Burke wasn’t a complete idiot, most of the time.

 

****

 

“You are such a dork,” El said, fond and totally laughing at him.

“What? Are you mocking my extremely thoughtful, bought for $5, from that guy that yells constantly, flower bouquet?” Peter asked, brandishing the white chrysanthemums and attempting to tickle her nose. He smiled back at her as she swatted at him. He just liked to hear her laugh, even when it was at him.

“What’s next? Are you going to romance me over this bad Chinese food and somehow get into my bed?” she asked, faux coy.

“Well, I was counting on it,” Peter grinned.

She rolled her eyes and asked, “well did you at least get beer too?”

“Two Stellas coming up,” Peter mock saluted and went to fetch the beer.

“How do you think Neal’s doing tonight?” El asked, a bit of concern coloring her voice. Neal was playing cards with the novelists this evening, even after his little freak-out at the crime scene. Peter just might be a little worried too.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Peter said, trying his best to sound sure. “He’s Neal Caffrey.” Hell, less than two months ago that would mean everything that Peter was saying, but currently it wasn’t completely reassuring. Burke was pretty sure that Neal could at least fake being his charming self for a small group of professional writers. He’s been faking pretty well at the office for the past couple of days as he got back in the swing of things.

“They’re going to eat him alive, aren’t they?” Burke asked, knocking his head against the back of the couch.

“Have a little faith, honey,” El patted his side reassuringly. Her touch softened to slide over to his belt buckle.

“Dinner not to your liking, I take it?” Peter asked, lifting and eyebrow and while failing to hide his grin.

El playfully smacked his thigh with her other hand. “Cheesy,” she said, smiling into a kiss.

“Thought you liked that,” he replied pulling her into his lap.

Peter pulled Elizabeth into his lap, smiled into his kisses and said, “So straight to desert?”

“You’re terrible,” El teased and hummed approvingly as Peter started working the top buttons of her dress. Moving the collar to the side to expose the skin of her shoulder, he moved to kiss her neck.

“I think I’m going to need to take a little more attention with this,” Peter decided and scooted El off his lap. He knealed in the floor and started with the buttons at the bottom of her vintage blue dress. His hands lingered on her thighs, skimmed over her underwear, as he continued on his path on the way up her front, undoing her belt as he goes.

“Interesting approach Mr. Burke,” El said, smiling as he slid her dress off her shoulders. Leaning in for another kiss, he made quick work with the clasp of her bra. He tossed the garment somewhere behind him.

With his mouth, he teased the nipple of her right breast while using his fingers to tweak the other nipple causing her breath to catch.

“Mmm, there, little more,” El encouraged. “Teeth, just a little,” she gasped when his teeth grazed the tip, peaked in arousal.

He raised his head to kiss her lips and used his right hand to ghost down her side, stopping at the front of her panties. Her hips shifted to press against his hand as she spoke, “yes.”

He smiled into his kiss, then reached down and slowly slid her underwear over her hips, down her thighs and legs, tossing them in the direction of the bra. He had the fleeting thought of gratefulness that the dog was shut in the kitchen. Wouldn’t do for a game of fetch now.

Pressing his lips to her once more, he pulled away to spread her thighs watching as she was exposed, seeing the promise of pink. “Gorgeous,” he spoke reaching a hand down to part the folds and finding her wet. _Almost like he knew what he was doing._

Peter used his fingers, sliding into her warmth, teasing her clit with every other stroke while El moaned increasingly filthy things at him.

“Shit. Christ. Harder, fucking,” El gasps, “Peter, faster, left you fucker. There! There! There,” she moaned pushing against his hand and working for a better angle while he held her with his hand on her hip as she climaxed bucking against him. He stroked her through it whispering encouragements in her ear.

“Beautiful, Jesus, El,” Peter said, “so beautiful. I’ve got you. Gorgeous.”

After her breathing had evened out, El at last said, “You know, you’re too overdressed for your turn.”

He grinned, “I was hoping we could take this upstairs.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind,” El hinted, then with a heated grin she challenged, “Race you.”

He smirked and watched appreciatively the sway of her hips as she slinked over to the stairs as he unbuttoned his shirt. She paused at the base of the steps and he pulled his shirt off and stood. They watched each other, like a pair of cats facing off, wondering who’d blink first.

He shifted ever so slightly and El bounded up the stairs giggling as he gave chase and promptly tripped over his own pants. He’d forgotten she’d undid his belt and fly. Sneaky minx.

“Hurry up or I’ll start without you!” she called.

“For Christ’s sake!” he exclaimed finally freeing himself of his trousers and taking the stairs two at a time.

He made it up to their bedroom to find El stretched out on the bed, her fingers toying with the hair of her pussy. He grinned at her and whispered, “Oh darling, so beautiful.”

“Get over here,” she ordered. “Without your underpants.”

“Yes ma’m,” he promptly slid out of his boxer briefs, kicking them in the vicinity of the hamper. He’s trained after all. Never mind that he will have trouble tracking down the rest of their clothes later.

He approached the bed and climbed mostly over top her, his arms supporting his weight as he leaned down for a kiss. She kissed back, nipping at his lips a little and promptly changed their positions.

“Love when you’re up there,” he mumbled into her kisses as she reached for the lube to slick his cock giving it a few quick strokes to bring it to full attention. She shifted her hips and guided him in, sighed as skin met skin.

“Ready?” she asked looking completely sinful and flushed the fuck out.

“Always,” he agreed, because he’s cheesy and completely in love with this amazing woman, especially if she would just move.

She started to ride him, hands on his shoulders for leverage, his hands on her elbows and she went shallow, shallow, then deep, panting and talking filth. His hips bucked up and he tried to find that angle that would undo her. Soon they were perfectly aligned and movements became jerky thrusts as she came, her cunt taking him one last deep thrust and he followed her.

She slid off and lay beside him, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. “Amazing, God El,” he whispered pressing a kiss into her temple.

“Yeah,” El agreed, catching her breath and threading their fingers together. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Heh,” he half chuckled and found that he could easily drift off.

“I wouldn’t mind that Chinese now,” El hummed, contented.

“It’s just all the way downstairs,” Peter mumbled into his pillow.

“You’re going to have to check on the dog anyway,” El reminded.

“He’s probably already broken out of the kitchen and eaten the food,” Peter reasoned. He’s clever in a con artist sort of way. Door handles will not defeat him. Now, he’s thinking about Neal.

“I can go check,” El kissed his temple.

“No, I’ll go,” Peter murmured. “I’m getting up right now.”

“Yes, dear. I can see that,” she was giggling at him.

He stayed where he was even as he felt El get up and find her robe. The thought of silk sliding onto her skin was almost enough to make him nearly conscious, until his thoughts went back to what was bothering him. He sighed then rubbed his eyes.

“I’m worried about Neal,” Peter admitted.

She sat down next to his hip and took his hand giving it a squeeze. “Me too.”

“What are we going to do about that?” Peter asked, looking at his wife. Her brown eyes were kind.

“I don’t know, Peter,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“I’ll think of something,” Peter spoke, trying to sound sure.

El smiled, something tucked into the corner of her mouth that he couldn’t quite put his finger on due to his recovery. “Yes you will,” she agreed, kissing his cheek and heading out of the room.

He couldn’t stay awake long enough to think or worry about anything else. He did have an early day. Neal’s first official day back on the case was tomorrow and he had the kid robbing a bank. He groaned into his pillow and fumbled his alarm on.

 

*****

Across town, Neal rang the doorbell to Richard Castle’s flat and fought the stirring of butterflies in his belly. He couldn’t figure why he was so nervous. It was just card playing. They would just ask questions about the con. None of them knew about Kate and Castle struck him as the sort of guy who’d be polite about that sort of thing, despite the novelist’s exuberance.

Maybe he should leave. Neal knew of at least two good exits. Even if it were a little rude. He could pretend some FBI stuff came up.

Too late. The door swung open to reveal a pretty, redheaded teenager.

“Hi,” she greeted, smiling and looked just like Castle for a moment. “Nice hat.”

“Thank you,” Neal put on his game face, smile and charm in place, but not too much. Charm had to be held in check when dealing with teenagers, especially when they were someone’s daughter. “I’m Neal Caffrey,” he introduced extending his hand.

“I know,” she took it and giggled when he pressed a kiss to the top of her hand to give her something to tell her friends tomorrow at school. “I’m Alexis. Castle’s my dad.”

“You do have his smile,” he winked.

“Lexi, stop flirting with my guest,” Castle called, walking into view.

“Who said I was flirting? Maybe he was flirting first?” Alexis asked, pulling her hand away and looking almost mature all of a sudden. She took his hat and jacket and hung it on the coat rack beside Rick‘s blue scarf and wool coat. “Since when are you one to judge?”

“He’s too old for you,” Castle chided kissing the top of her head. “Hi,” he smiled at Neal.

“Well duh,” Alexis said rolling her eyes. “When’s poker start?”

“I recall it being your bedtime,” he said steering her towards the stairs. “Neal come in and make yourself at home. There’s wine on the counter near the authors. I’m just going to lock the teenager in the tower.”

“Dad!” Alexis managed a lot of indigence, loathing and love in that one word.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m ruining your life, I know,” Castle chided.

“Just so we’re clear,” she said, voice fading somewhere in the loft.

Neal calmly walked toward the wine and authors all watching him like a hawk. The pair, Stephen Cannell and James Patterson, looked at him with amusement. He was glad that his hand was steady as he poured wine into his glass.

“Fellows, can I get you anything before I head over to the table?” Neal offered.

“You know who we are?” Cannell cocked an eyebrow.

“Reign it in,” Patterson warned, coolly.

“Of course Mr. Cannell,” Neal said.

“Call me Steve,” Cannell said, bit of a smirk on his face.

“And bring us another round of beer, if you would Neal,” Patterson requested.

“Sure thing Mr. Patterson,” Neal said, balancing the beer in one hand and his wine in the other.

“Call me James,” he offered then muttered, “I’m not that old.”

“Sure thing James,” Neal agreed with a small smile and wondered if June knew either of these characters. She probably did. She’d definitely give them a run for their money if she’d ever run across them.

“James are you harassing my guest?” Castle asked reappearing down the stairs and practically skipping over to the table, fresh beer in tow.

“Hardly,” Steve answered. “Feel free to go ahead and deal first. The con can go next.”

“Spoken like someone assuming I would stack the deck in my favor,” Neal said, smiling a little.

“Well of course,” Patterson said. “You aren’t the first con we’ve met. Though you are a cute one.”

“James!” Cannell said, mock aghast.

“It’s the hat isn’t it?” Castle asked, face full of frowned thought. “It gives him this charm boost or something.”

“Or something,” Patterson agreed sagely.

“Maybe I should get a hat,” Castle thought out loud taking his seat beside Neal.

“No,” they both tiredly answered.

Neal was beginning to think that the night wouldn’t go too bad after all. They played a few rounds and talked about inconsequential things. Neal told of some of the narrower escapes he had made from Peter. He had just finished telling about jumping out a three story window onto a canopy while Peter yelled at him furiously and the conversation lulled.

“So, at the risk of sounding like a nosey old fart,” Patterson said, surveying his hand and frowning a little more, his eyes shifting back to study Caffrey, “Do you have a nice girl to go home to? Or boy?”

Neal fought the urge to shudder. He should have realized that he couldn’t keep a couple observant authors from noticing the gap in his story. He stole things for Kate after all. He ran because Peter was chasing him. He didn’t speak a word of that though and didn’t want to.

Keeping his shoulders and demeanor loose, he tried for a soft smile. “Handy tracking anklet kind of kills a mans’ game,” Neal offered a shrug.

He couldn’t read James’ face, but he had a feeling his non-answer didn’t cut it.

“Patterson, play some cards and stop trying to live through the far more exciting love-lives of those years younger than you that isn’t me,” Castle deflected on Neal’s behalf, making a joke.

“Please,” Cannel said, “you wish you could have such interesting and intrepid affairs. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

“I get the feeling like you might have wanted to make a few gestures as to the proportions of women past,” Castle said quaintly.

“Yeah, a few rude gestures,” Patterson solemnly nodded, causing the rest to laugh. The authors went back to bantering, leaving Neal’s love life well enough alone.

Before he knew it and several rounds later, Steve and James decided to head back to their respective apartments. Neal took that as his cue to leave too.

“Where are you going?” Castle asked, sounding like someone about the age of seven when playtime's over.

“I should really head home. I have to get in to the office tomorrow and do that honest work stuff like break into a bank on company time,” Neal said. “But I had a wonderful time, Rick. Thanks for inviting me.”

Neal moved to get his coat, then hat, and shook Castle’s hand.

“But I really wanted to hear more stories about Burke chasing after you,” Castle said. “Who knew origami left strategically could be so annoying to a seasoned federal agent? Do you think it would work on hardened NYPD detectives?”

“Maybe next time,” Neal offered. He wouldn’t really mind seeing Castle again. He’s different, more excited about things. He’s not giving Neal pointed looks of concern when he thinks Neal isn’t looking. “Did you try punching her arm first and running away?”

“Hey!” Castle said mock affronted. “It’s not like that. And you’re one to talk.”

Neal nodded, “Sure. Night.” He escaped, closing the door behind him and fighting the urge to take deep breaths. It got a little dodgy there at the end. He’d almost looked forward to going home and going to sleep if it weren’t for his nightmares.

*****

“So, how was the author?” Mozzie asked. “It must be nice to have cool people to hang out and play cards with so a guy can stay out late while their friend Mozzie worries more than a little because they forgot to tell them about said card playing.”

“Authors, plural. And Mozzie needs to stop talking about himself in the third person,” Neal said, hanging up his hat when he walked through the door. A night out wasn’t enough. He just felt like he was spinning his wheels. He needed a case. He needed to find Kate’s killer. He needed to apparently stop being so obvious to strangers about his crush on the Burkes.

He was almost glad Mozzie was arguing at him. It was almost distracting enough.

“Mozzie will stop it when Neal tells him he shouldn’t be jealous of sociable famous crime novelists. And that Neal won’t be adding the author tag along to list of ridiculous things Neals do like not calling their best friends back and obsessing over a murder investigation.” Mozzie continues, barely pausing for breath and giving a very pointed look at Neal over his glasses.

Neal pulled out a glass and the bottle of gin from the cabinet. “Here, maybe the Mozzie will calm down with this,” Neal offered.

“Mozzie could be persuaded if the limes in the bottom of your fridge could come out to play,” Mozzie agreed sitting down at the kitchen table while Neal busied himself with getting a lime and slicing it the way Moz liked it.

“Ice?” Neal asked, sitting the saucer of limes in front of his friend.

“Blasphemy!” Mozzie declared then scooted his glass over. “A couple cubes wouldn’t go amiss.”

Neal fought a smile and shook his head, but caught Moz a few cubes of ice and a glass of ice water for himself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call and I swear it was just cards and not very exciting,” Neal offered.

“As long as you don’t have anyone new you’d be aging paintings with,” Mozzie shrugged and adjusted his glasses. “How’s the suit?”

“Peter’s good. He had a night in with El,” Neal said, fingering tracing the top of his glass trying not to think too hard about that. If the feelings in his gut were anything to go on, it probably wouldn’t lead anywhere good.

“The suit’s a lucky man to have such a classy lady,” Mozzie nodded sagely. Moz respected El. Not only was she classy, and a little intimidating, she barely batted an eyelash at Mozzie’s more unusual idiosyncrasies. Everyone loved her, Moz included. _If only her awesome included threesomes,_ he thought wistfully then mentally smacked himself.

“Yeah,” Neal stared into his glass of water willing his stomach to settle.

“You could probably get in on that,” Mozzie declared.

“Mozzie!” Neal exclaimed. If he’d been taking a drink of water he’d have spewed it across the table. It’s enough for barely strangers to be dropping suggestions, but for Moz. Well, it was just unnatural.

“What?” Mozzie looked perfectly innocent if one didn‘t take into account the glass of gin he gestured with.

“I’m going to bed,” Neal declared, ushering Mozzie to the door.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Mozzie said, downing the rest of his gin and ambling toward the door guided by Neal’s hands.

“Well, you’ve said more than enough tonight, Moz,” Neal muttered.

“That’s what the Mozzie does,” Moz added, opening the door.

“Stop it,” Neal said and he wasn’t sure if he meant Mozzie talking about himself in the third person or the whole uncomfortable business or both. Probably both.

“I’m just going to fall asleep on June’s couch downstairs,” Mozzie said.

“Which she hasn’t minded yet,” Neal observed. “Night Moz.”

“The Mozzie wishes you good evening,” Moz declared, with a quaint little bow, as Neal shut the door in his face then sat against it and groaned into his hands. Clearly, his whole problem was that he’d had too much wine tonight. Dehydration could explain all this. Surely.

Water and sleep and he could forget about the whole world trying to best him or make him better until he’s ready to be ready.

*****

Richard Castle naturally called for drinks after work. Neal was mad enough at the boring, golf-playing, sleazy executive that he didn’t even hesitate before saying yes and where. Sometimes spur of the moment banter was what’s required after a tough day that before wouldn’t have been so tough.

Castle was perched at the bar. His coat strewn haphazardly behind him on his chair and scarf balanced precariously on top as he sipped a draft beer doing his very best not to stare at a couple necking in a corner booth with something tightening his jaw in an unhappy frown.

Neal shucked his jacket and neatly folding it over the back of the chair next to Castle and plopped his hat down on the bar as he took a seat.

“Castle,” Neal acknowledged and then ordered a Martini, dry.

“Hi Neal,” Castle gave him a glance and then tilted his head. “Do you think they are simultaneously breathing through their noses? I’m starting to think one of them might pass out if they aren’t.”

“That’s not your concern,” Neal said, taking a sip of his drink and was disappointed.

“It’s not?” Castle asked finally shifting his attention to Neal.

“They’re both barely 21 if even that, young enough for you to think of your daughter and go all parental concerned for her virtue,” Neal said with a shrug.

“Okay, maybe,” Castle allowed. “But still, the lack of oxygen might encourage the choking on tongues. Besides, Lexi’s too mature for that or at least more mature than I am.”

Neal nodded. He couldn’t exactly refute that logic, but even Castle‘s form of convoluted logic couldn’t pull him out of the funk he found his mind in, his anger honing back to thoughts of Kate.

But if Neal was being honest with himself, his hatred for who’s responsible for his loss could almost let him admit he might hate Kate a little too along with himself. That’s what’s really irked him. Everything was entirely his fault. He’d wanted everything and now had nothing.

He’s glad Peter’s never actually said, “I told you so,” regarding the whole Kate situation. He didn’t think he could afford to hear those words ever spoken even if Peter’s thinking them. It would be absolutely too much.

Neal was pretty sure that he’s just a satellite. He orbited around Kate, while making long sweeps around Peter until he had to land, crashing down. He wasn’t just running away, but running towards something.

Peter might say something different. Like it was the other way around. El might call it inevitable. Neal was starting to decide maybe there are worse things, like having no one who cared about him.

It was this morose line of thought that after some small talk, Neal surprised himself by the question he asked the novelist.

“Have you ever really been in love?” Neal asked Castle. “Like really in love? Where you were completely sure that she was the one. That you wouldn’t be happy with anyone else. That you would do absolutely anything to make it work. That you’d steal the real David if you thought that you could keep her so that she would stay?”

“Or maybe love is supposed to be enough?” Castle countered with a wistfulness and a contemplative smile. “That it isn’t about nice things, or the car you drive, or if you’re drinking the finest wine. It’s not to do with infamy or fame. Sometimes love is shared Chinese late at night with vending machine soda. Love is a look, shared then, in those quite moments. Love is not limited,” Castle sipped his drink. “But who am I to answer that question? I’ve been married more than twice and had more than my share of ‘loves.’ But maybe if it were about the right person. Someone who could be an equal.

“Maybe that love will only ever be that look and those moments. Maybe it never gets to be anything more. But what you have to remember is that you had those perfect moments. That you can hold on to them,” Castle took another sip of his drink as he studied Neal while Neal tried not to fidget. He felt exposed all of a sudden, like Rick was looking right through him.

“True,” Neal agreed, “in an unrequited sort of way.” He looked away as he sipped his own martini.

“But sometime love sneaks up on you and gives you perfect moments where you didn’t expect to find them, from people you didn’t expect love from,” Castle spoke, finger trailing the rim of his glass. “Sometimes, with love...”

Rick shrugged, letting his voice trial off.

“Sometimes with love what, Castle?” Neal asked, almost sure he’d regret it.

Castle looked like he had discovered a particular shiny bit of treasure. The proof was in his smile, when he answered, “Sometimes with love you just have to accept it even if you’d never expected to get it from where it shows up.”

Neal frowned and said, “Maybe I’ve just had my share of love.” He downed the rest of his drink and stood. “Be seeing you around, Castle.”

“Poker again on Thursday?” Castle asked, trying not to sound completely disappointed. He almost thought he’d helped his new friend with a breakthrough. For someone so clever, the kid could be so dense. Had the kid not seen the subtext in the looks Burke had been giving him? Or was he too scared to see it?

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Neal agreed, quick smile while putting his hat on and breezing out of the bar quick as you please.

*****

Neal didn’t go straight home--well, back to June’s. He went over to Peter and El’s house instead. It was more of a home anyway. It even had a dog and a general feeling of warmth.

“I’m tired of ill-prepared Martinis,” he declared to El in way of greeting, after she’d barely got the door open.

“That sounds fair,” El said agreeably and studying him as she let him into the living room. He met her eyes and she asked, “Would some wine make it up to you?”

“It would be a start,” Neal said, tossing his coat towards the coat rack and hat on top of both. “The guy didn’t even put in a whole olive. Half an olive does not a proper Martini make.” He rambled on while going over to the couch and setting down. “And crime novelists are just pesky. What would they know about love anyway?”

El returned to the couch, two glasses of wine in tow, thinking about how maybe she should have brought him some water or the rest of the bottle. She sat them on the coffee table in reach, tucked her legs under, turned to observe the troubled looking Caffrey. She took a shot and asked, “What else Neal?”

“I’m not okay, though,” Neal admitted and then looked away while ruffling his own hair. Eyes a little wild and surprised from what she caught in them, like he hadn’t meant to confess that to her. He’d probably meant to just make noise and distract with slight of hand far away from what he really wanted to talk about.

“But you’re working on that,” El spoke, she was sure he was working it. If he asked for help, she’d give it without thought. But he wasn’t going to ask. He’d already admitted too much. He’s too proud to ask just yet. Besides, he’d never ask her first anyway. The two of them don’t have a history like he and Peter.

“I’m trying,” Neal nodded. “Now, you promised me wine,” Neal changed the subject.

El smiled and hoped she kept all the sadness out, “I did.” She leaned over and reached him his glass.

Sometimes Neal wondered where he’d be if he’d never met Kate. He thought he would have still gone to jail, but maybe he would have another love that he went for. Or maybe he’d be a terrible force, stealing until his apartment was full of priceless artifacts to be done in by something as careless as an overloaded pistol.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have gone to jail at all. Everything he ever stole, in one way or another, was for her.  
He said as much to El after they had drunk most of the bottle.

“But what do you steal for now?” El asked. It was a fair question. Even if he didn’t want to know the answer.

 _Peter_ Neal thought, the word on his lips causing him to bite his tongue. Outwardly, Neal paused with the glass to his lips and shrugged. He sat his glass back down on the table. “Why do you think I do anything I do?”

“Because you’re good at it. You’re exceptional at what you do and take joy out of it. Some of it’s showing off. Some of it’s to impress Peter. You’ve done it long enough for it to be effortless. Stealing, the con, it’s just part of who you are,” she said, thinking out loud. “But returning things, giving back?” She met his eyes and he was terrified to look away all at once. “You do that because Peter asks you to and old Neal would have never done that before.”

“Old Neal, huh,” he said, deflecting, trying to smile. “What about new Neal?”

“He’s kind of like old Neal, just a working progress,” she said, smiling a little at him. “This is the part where you leave quickly all at once, isn’t it?”

He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Tell Peter I said hi,” Neal said standing and grabbing his coat.

“You could tell him yourself,” El offered.

“Maybe next time,” he said, adorned in hat and coat.

“Maybe,” she said and he would swear he could almost hear more meaning there. But he just didn’t want to listen yet. Everything’s still too scary to even think of going there.

*****

He was sitting at the marble kitchen counter with the lights off. He was afraid he couldn’t make it any farther without making any more noise than he already had. He wouldn’t have stopped at the kitchen at all, but he was sure that June had some club soda. Turned out Martinis and wine was not a good idea. He’s pretty sure that he’d already learned that lesson, but even he can forget.

“Bad dreams? Or hair of the dog caught up with you?” June asked, entering the kitchen in pajamas and a robe. She still looked elegant at the late hour. She’s extraordinary like that.

“Little of both I guess,” Neal admitted, ruffling his hair. “Sorry to wake you.”

“No need to apologize,” June waved it off, pouring herself a glass of water. “I’d offer to make you some warm milk but I think it would turn you green.”

“With envy of course,” Neal returned. Yeah, he knew he didn’t have his A-game on. But it’s late. His entitled to be a little off his game. June would overlook it, until she didn’t.

June shot him a look. Her face said ‘don’t bullshit me’ but in a polite, kind of regal way.

“I’m okay June,” he said, voice quiet, trying his best to make it the truth. If he said it enough, to enough people, maybe then it would be true. Hell, he’s even said it to Jones, who frowned at him, but didn’t refute it.

“It’s fine if you aren’t,” June said, hand squeezing his shoulder. “No shame in that. And revenge really isn’t everything you’ll hope it will be.”

“I know,” Neal answered. He did, at least know that much even as he knew he‘d never just let it go. He placed his hand over hers, giving it a pat.

She leaned down and kissed his cheek. On her way out of the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, “Don’t brood all night. It’s bad for the complexion.”

Neal almost felt like rolling his eyes, but smiled a little instead.

******

The case had been solved, rich millionaire squared away and his report was even done. Peter had simply meant to drop Neal off at June’s but followed him upstairs. He felt like Neal was on the brink of something and wanted to be there just in case it was a fall.

Peter had barely uncorked the wine and said, “Slow going on that other case.” He was talking about Kate and trying to be delicate about it, though he knew that delicate wasn’t really his strong suit.

“You don’t get it, Peter. You don’t understand because you got the girl and held on to her despite your obsession with work. Maybe El is just a better woman. Maybe I wasn’t enough for Kate. Maybe, it’s none of that. Maybe I should have been a better thief. I don’t know. I just know that she’s ash. Everything I worked for is ash. Who cares what they wanted me for? I have nothing.”

“You got me,” Peter said softly, voice almost surprised and maybe a little heartbroken. Like he didn’t know he was going to say it. Like it just slipped out of his thoughts and out into space. Like he didn’t realize he felt it until it snuck out into speech. Like he was hurt Neal didn’t already know that.

But his face was sure, earnest. He meant those three words down to the fiber making up his bones. It had been a truth for him when he found out Neal was leaving, maybe even before that to the time when they started working together. Hell, if he were honest, he could probably say them somewhere in the middle of chasing Caffrey. The exasperation had grown from respect to fondness.

Burke still knew that Neal was a con, that he would always be not only because the kid couldn’t help himself, but because he was an artist, a romantic. He longed to paint perfection out of the imperfections. Use slight of hand to distract from a box wine to make it Bordeaux. Use folded paper to make a bouquet and charm to hide.

Neal has Peter without conditions or limitations. Peter wouldn’t, couldn’t qualify it. Neal’s got him whether he wants him or not, whether he’d admit to needing him or not, whether he takes him or not simply because that’s who Peter is. He’s the guy that’s in it until the wheels fall off. That’s what made Burke go to the airport. That’s what kept him there while he tried to get Neal to be okay without faking it. That’s why he said it now. Sometimes, the things that go left unsaid, those truths, need to be heard.

Neal doesn’t quite smile, his mouth caught around a grimace more than anything else. He’s got a hand over his heart like he’s trying to hold something in his chest.

“You’ve got me,” Peter insisted, his voice surer and taking a step to close the distance.

Neal shook his head.

“Of course you’d argue. I say the sky is blue and you’d try to con me into thinking that it’s green,” Peter said.

“I’m still here,” Neal said, after a few moments silence.

“I know,” Peter said. “For a little while there, I thought you wouldn’t be.” He didn’t elaborate if he meant when Neal was almost literally on the next plane out or if he meant the aftermath where he’d been dealing with a charming ghost.

Neal half smiled, “But you still stuck around.”

“Where else would I go?” Peter asked.

“I’m sure the answer to that lies somewhere in the one about old dogs,” Neal joked, but his face was grateful.

Peter frowned a little. Maybe he’s a little predictable. “One of my charms though, right?” he asked.

“Of course,” Neal said with a roll of his eyes and started laughing. Peter laughed along too. It was nice to hear. Then he looked lost for a moment and asked.

“Do you think I should have just listened to her?” Neal asked.

Peter frowned and must have looked puzzled because Neal clarified, “Listened to Kate and took her at her word when she first told me to drop it? Because I didn’t save her, Peter. You would have saved El.”

“I would have tried my best. You were just doing what you thought was right and gave it your best,” Peter said after a moment. “And I would have saved Kate if I could.”

Neal nodded, but looked lost in his own head. Peter didn’t want to leave him there, so he reached out and steadied his hand on Caffrey’s shoulder. He moved his hand to cup the side of Neal’s face.

Neal gave Peter a look, all kinds of questions crossed his expression through his half shed tears, but he wasn’t shying away despite the hesitance.

“C’mon,” Peter said, sliding his arm over Neal’s shoulders. “Let me take you home.”

“Home,” Neal breathed, leaning a little against Peter’s arm. “Okay.”  
***

Something about the whole getting what he wanted thing was absolutely terrifying. He didn’t realize there was any underlying motive in Peter’s suggestion than merely a hot chocolate prepared by Burke and to be tucked into their couch with a soft, clean smelling blanket by El. He didn’t realize that ‘come home and let me and my hot wife take care of you’ actually had the implied underlying meaning.

Neal was usually better at reading into these situations. Hell, he prided himself on picking up on the details and seeing the grand scheme of things. Love just made him stupid.

El’s touch was soft, kinder than what he’d been use to. Of course, it’s been a little more than four years since he’d been touched by someone who mattered. He hadn’t even got to kiss Kate goodbye. But Elizabeth was different in every way. Sassy as hell. More of an equal.

She looked at him like she’d never throw him away. Like he was a treasure worth keeping. She’s more patient with him than Peter even when she’s calling him on his bullshit.

He doesn’t want to disappoint either of them even when he’s sure he will.

“Come over here,” El said. It wasn’t a request. Neal shivered. Maybe there could be honor in stupid. Or at least a little peace.

“He does look cold,” Peter agreed.

He thought he might be more than a little lucky. Or dreaming. Or slightly out of his mind. He has been a little crazy recently, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t prone to such high quality hallucinations not even that time Mozzie and he had accidentally ingested LCD which was foolish and not worth mentioning.

“It’s good to know that he can’t be rendered speechless,” Peter joked.

“I said that out loud?” Neal asked, admittedly more than a little mortified. “Because that would be embarrassing. And, you’re not wearing anything under that silk robe are you?” He snapped his mouth shut and adverted his eyes. He’s a gentleman. Or he was even if right now he certainly didn’t want to be. He’s pretty sure Peter was going to kill him when he’s not possessed by body snatchers.

El stepped up to him and put one finger on his lips to hush him. He probably said that body snatchers bit too.

“I imagined this happening with a lot less talking,” she said to both men.

“Me too,” Peter agreed with a smirk.

Neal was officially in the twilight zone and his eyebrows could not get any higher and maybe the part of some elaborate practical joke.

“But if you don’t want to do anything, we can all just sleep,” El offered, sincerity and concern in voice, her hand kind against his forearm giving a gentle reassuring squeeze. He knew he would find assurance in her face if he’d look at her. “You need to rest, Neal. We know you’ve been wearing yourself out trying to find Kate’s killer and why.”

Oh God, they are both robots. He knew it.

Well, since he’s crazy, he’s always been an all or nothing kind of guy. And Peter was about to go along with whatever cuddling backup plan that El had because he’s all noble and shit.

“No,” Neal said, moving her hand and watching as Peter unbuttoned his shirt. “I want a little more than that.” He kissed her palm.

“Then let us take care of you,” El smiled, completely agreeable and a hint wicked.

“Yes,” Neal said meeting Peter’s eyes and Peter looked happy to hear the word. “Please, do.”

Peter shirtless was something to behold. The chasing really paid off.

“What?” Peter asked. “Are you going to say that I look pretty good for an old guy?”

“No,” Neal swallowed. “I was going to say you look fantastic.”

Peter smirked, a little pleased and a touch embarrassed. “So, what do you want?”

“I’d really like to fuck your wife,” Neal said with a cheeky grin.

“Only if Peter gets to fuck you,” El said agreeably with want in her eyes.

“I was just about to say,” Peter nodded. “How long’s it been since you’ve been with a guy?” he asked casually, perhaps to gauge if they had enough lube or filling in another piece of the puzzle that would always be Neal to him.

“A very long time,” Neal shrugged, fighting a cringe. It was before Kate and after he got to New York and he just wasn’t going to go there.

“Then you and El should go first,” Peter suggested, perhaps reading between the lines.

“Gladly,” El agreed.

“You’re beautiful, by the way,” Neal said. “And I’m going to really enjoy eating you out.”

“I know,” she said with a smile that turned coy, “and me too.” She slid off her robe and tossed it across the room as she scooted to lie back on the bed and spread her legs. She looked delicious with all her luscious curves on display for him.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt with one hand while removing his tie with the other. Peter took them along with his trousers and carefully folded them over a chair because he’s sweet like that, but that was secondary to Neal’s admiration of El. Neal stretched and gave her a kiss, her lips soft and smiling.

He pulled back and found that he was smiling back. “That was as nice as I’d thought it’d be,” Neal said.

“And I thought it was oddly chaste in a nice sort of way,” El grinned.

“Is she always this smug and charming in a filthy sort of way?” Neal asked, tipping his head toward Peter.

“Yep,” Peter grinned, “but I imagine you can find a way to shut her up.”

Neal smirked, stole another kiss, then shifted where he was kneeling on the edge of the mattress between her thighs, kissing the inside of both. Bracing himself on one arm, his used his free hand to tease the fold of her cunt while he slipped his tongue inside to taste causing her to shift so he could have deeper access.

“Deeper,” she encouraged. “And a little more right-There!” she moaned as his tongue teased her clit. He focused there with his tongue while sliding a finger in causing her to writhe against the sheets and give increasingly filthier mutterings. He could hear Peter give a chuckle somewhere to his left when Neal finally got El off after enough teasing.

Neal pulled his face back, flushed and pleased as she looked down at him through her hooded eyes. “You’re not done, are you?” she asked with a smirk.

“Of course not,” he said, bravado genuine for once. “Condom?” he asked.

“Is this the part where I make a crack about you being smarter than you look?” Peter asks, opening a condom from a very new looking box and walking over to Neal.

“You’ve said something along those lines before,” Neal said, lifting an eyebrow at Peter.

“True,” Peter agreed, his hand ghosting along Neal’s hip. “Would you like a hand with that?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” Neal said as Peter reached around him to slide the condom on his hard cock, Peter’s own erection hard against the crack of Neal’s ass.

“Soon boys,” El assured them.

“I know my manners,” Neal said with a smirk. “Ladies first.” He accepted the bottle of lube from Peter and quickly slicked up before sliding in.

El met him stroke for stroke, even as Peter’s hand never left his hip perhaps spurring him on or anchoring him down, Neal couldn’t be sure or care either way. He’s connected to both of them now and Peter’s hand feels right there.

El came and Neal took a few more thrusts and came with a shout. He slid out and El reached up and removed the condom, tied it up and tossed it in the trash all while kissing him. He was so distracted that he nearly forgot it was Peter who was still holding on, right until he whispered, “My turn,” and the first slicked finger gently pushed into his ass.

“Oh,” he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. It burned a little but the friction was nice, more so than he remembered. When it stopped burning and slid easily his pushed against Peter’s hand and said, “More.”

“Greedy bugger,” Peter muttered, but Neal could hear the smile there as he pushed another finger in and began working Neal’s hole, loosening him up as El stole another kiss.

“You’d know,” Neal said as Peter slid a third finger in causing Neal to unconsciously buck a little. Peter soothed with gentle strokes with his hand anchored on Neal’s hip and El kissing him again until his fingers met no resistance all while whispering assurances in Neal’s ear.

“Do you want four?” Peter asked, sounding incredibly patient for someone still impressively hard causing Neal to finally open his eyes, trying his best to look over his shoulder.

“Fucking fuck me already, Peter,” Neal groaned, pushing against his hand. “Please.”

“If you insist,” Peter said removing his hand causing Neal’s ass to feel surprisingly empty. Neal saw from the corner of his eye Peter getting another condom and rolling it on. He heard the click of the cap from the lube. Before he knew it, before he could fully process it, Peter started pushing in ever so slowing.

“Shit!” Neal gasped squeezing his eyes shut once more and giving Peter paused.

“It’s okay,” Peter soothed, hands stroking Neal’s hips as Neal adjusted to the intrusion. It burned where Peter hadn’t reached and he couldn’t decide if he wanted Peter‘s dick out of him or further in.

“Look at me Neal,” El requested. “Open your eyes.”

He did. She kissed his mouth. “Hi,” he said, a little awkwardly.

“Remember to breathe,” she said smirking a little, but there was love tucked into the corner of her eyes.

He nodded and said, “Move Peter.”

“You sure?” he asked with the patience of a saint. “Is he sure honey?”

“Yes, he’s sure,” El answered and kissed him again.

Peter eased out and slowly back in and it was better, especially as his cock brushed Neal’s prostate causing Neal to moan into El‘s kiss. “There, oh fuck, there.”

“Duly noted,” Peter said with a quiet smugness. The bastard. Soon, Peter was building up a rhythm that had started to feel pretty damn good alternating with hitting Neal right on that bundle of nerves every other stroke.

It lasted forever and no time at before Peter unraveled and came with one last deep thrust, his head coming to rest against the back of Neal’s neck. Peter pressed a kiss there between Neal’s shoulder blades then gently, as he could, eased out causing Neal to give a grunt as he tried to decide if he could still operate his legs.

El gave a quick kiss and slid off the bed coming back with a washcloth. She gave Neal a brief wipe down to remove the stickiness and pulled back the covers while telling him to lay down. He crawled over to the edge of the bed and slid under the covers as El did the same for Peter.

Peter slid into bed next to Neal and draped an arm over him as El slipped into bed behind Peter.

“Did you set the alarm?” Peter asked, being so surprisingly practical after dirty sex. Such a boy scout.

“Of course,” El answered. “Night honey,” she said kissing his arm. “Night Neal.”

“Night,” Peter said, burrowing into Neal’s neck.

“Night,” Neal whispered after they had fallen asleep on the cusp of sleep himself still trying to decide if he was hallucinating.

****

 

The reflection of the sun through the glass made little rainbows on the pillow next to Peter’s ear while bouncing off the crown of El’s barely visible head. Morning already and not a nightmare lingering at the edges of his consciousness. If he hadn’t woken in their bed, Neal would have convinced himself that it had all been a very vivid, completely naughty dream.

He slept with them. Both of them. They wanted him and wanted to keep him. At least he hoped they wanted to keep him.

Shit, he’d slept with his boss. How civilian of him.

Peter’s hand gently caressed Neal’s side, calming and soothing.

“Stop freaking out,” Peter grumbled, voice sleep ruffled and eyes still squeezed shut. “It’s too earlier to freak out. Honey, tell him it’s too early.”

“Neal, it’s too early,” El agreed, reaching her arm over Peter so that her fingers could take Neal’s arm and drape it over Peter’s side. She played with his fingers and resettled back into a doze.

“You really are robots,” Neal muttered, settling more firmly into the pillow, but still staring wide-eyed at the pair of them.

“Love you too,” Peter mumbled, slight smile in the corners of his mouth.

“And since we love you, we’re not letting you watch any more late night sci-fi movies with Mozzie,” El agreed.

Neal smiled despite himself. If he weren’t careful, he could really get use to this. Hell, maybe it was time to stop being careful.

*****

“You seem happier, lighter somehow,” Alexis observed in lui of greeting as she let him into Castle’s flat for poker.

“Is that so?” Neal asked unable to hide his grin.

“Yep,” Alexis answered, hanging up his hat. “It’s a good look for you. Isn’t it Dad?”

“Yes,” he answered kissing her cheek. “What did I just agree to? I don’t think either of us have time to fly to Japan, despite your grandmother’s insistence.”

“That there’s a definite spark with the charm,” Lexi indicated. “So who is she?”

“Lexi!” Castle protested, guiding Neal further into the apartment. “Or he?”

“Dad!” Alexis exclaimed.

“What?” Castle asked faux innocent.

Neal just laughed.

“Oh, I’m sure that charming young gentlemen don’t kiss and tell,” James Patterson said morosely, saving Neal from answering.

“Like you ever kept anything to yourself,” Cannell muttered, but gave Neal a wink.

“I never claimed to be a gentle man despite my young age,” Patterson countered.

“First time for everything, though, right?” Alexis asked trying to make her way toward the table.

“Except on school nights,” Castle countered, steering her back to the stairs.

“But dad!” Lexi literally stomped her foot. “You’ve already written him into the latest Nikki Heat novel.”

“First, you are not your grandmother, so the grand tantrum inducing gestures are not attractive,” Castle said, gently pulling her away. “Second, I’m sure you two will have plenty of time to gossip later. Preferably, when the other authors aren’t around and there’s ice cream. Or some cunning plan such as that. Third, spoilers!”

“So you’ll hang around more, right Neal?” Lexi asked, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

“It’s in my two mile radius,” Neal said agreeably. “And apparently since I’m inspiring.”

“You just enjoy robbing us blind of peanut butter M&Ms,” Castle said sagely. “And you are a clever ruse with an even more clever hat I may or may not have liberally borrowed for a current book I may or may not be working on.”

“He’s calling you Evan Knight,” Lexi stage whispered, causing Neal to grin.

“Lock the teen in the tower already so we can gamble and stop flirting!” Cannell called.

Castle smirked, “They really like you, you know?”

“Yeah,” Neal agreed and wasn’t sure if the author was talking about his two novelist friends and daughter or Peter and El. But it didn’t really matter. For the first time in long time, he’s happy and having fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out the lovely artwork [here](http://davincis-girl.livejournal.com/152806.html)


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